


His Last Tear

by KiaMianara



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grieving, Internal Monologue, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaMianara/pseuds/KiaMianara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Facing the grave of the one she had longed to call her lover, Bulma has a one sided discussion with a ghost about the pain and tears of a proud man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Last Tear

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in 2007. I don't remember why, but probably because of my frustrations with a certain character.
> 
> Bulma's pov.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own anything, not making any money either. I'm just borrowing the characters.

* * *

 

He cried a lot.  
  
  
I would have never believed it myself, although I should have been the one knowing him best, but he cried.  
  
It was cruel to see him like that, stripped of his pride, curled into the furthest corner of his room, unable to speak a single word or even think straight because of you.  
  
  
Yes, you. You were the reason; every single tear was your fault and only yours, you ...  
  
  
No, I’m fooling myself. Anger is making me think like this, anger and jealousy. He would never have wept like this for me.  
  
I’m not saying he didn’t love me – he said so rather often, all things considered – but you consumed his heart and you never even noticed.  
  
  
I could hate you for that.  
  
He was by no means good with emotions, especially expressing them and you knew it, too, but you never noticed what you meant to him.  
  
I noticed. I saw it in every gaze, every word directed at you, even in every breath he took in your presence.  
  
It broke his heart and mine as well.  
  
  
But who am I telling all this? Cold stone on wet ground, as if he’s still crying.  
  
  
On his last days, when I sat by his bed, he didn’t cry anymore. It may just have been the happiest time we ever spent together.  
  
He told me so much about his “journeys”. Not about what he did – I believe he wanted to forget about that himself – but about what he saw there and he talked about his race, your race, about high days and small pleasures, about soul mates and the pain to lose one’s bonded.  
  
I guess he didn’t want all that to die with him, but what’s the use now anyway? The last of the great Saiyajin is dead. Not age – your people seem to be immune to that – not illness, just like this.  
  
  
He had a picture under his pillow, an old one with just the two of you. God knows when it was taken, but he gave it to me. He apologized, shed one last tear and slipped away, just like that.  
  
  
I hope and I wish you to hear me and that you understand. I don’t want him to cry anymore.  
  
  
He cried a lot, but remember this one thing: I was always there for him, not you, and this last tear was shed for me alone.  
  
  
THE END


End file.
